Kyle activated his camouflage skill before entering the mining facility, watching his reflection shift in the grimy window of a nearby building. His features rearranged themselves subtly—darker hair, slightly different bone structure, even his posture seemed to change. It still amazed him how completely the transformation masked his identity.
"First day?" Rodriguez asked as Kyle approached the equipment station. The supervisor looked even more tired than he had during the interview, his weathered face showing the strain of managing desperate workers in dangerous conditions.
"Yes, sir," Kyle replied, accepting a pickaxe and helmet from the equipment clerk.
"You'll be working Surface Level 3 today. It's brutal work—ten-hour shifts, minimal breaks, and the quota is non-negotiable. You miss your numbers, you don't get paid." Rodriguez gestured toward a group of exhausted-looking workers. "Follow Martinez's crew. They'll show you the ropes."
The work was more punishing than Kyle had imagined. The crystal formations embedded in the rock face required precise strikes to extract without damaging the valuable cores, but the rock itself was like concrete. Within the first hour, Kyle's shoulders screamed in protest, and his hands were already developing blisters despite the worn gloves.
"Keep your rhythm steady," one of the other workers called out between strikes. "You'll burn out if you go too hard too fast."
But Kyle had no choice. The quota system was merciless—each worker had to extract a minimum amount of crystal ore or forfeit their pay for the day. He swung the pickaxe again and again, his muscles burning with each impact. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the rock dust that coated everything in a fine, gray film.
By the fourth hour, two workers had already collapsed from exhaustion and been carried out by the medical team. Kyle's vision was starting to blur, but he forced himself to keep working. He couldn't afford to fail on his first day.
The lunch break lasted exactly fifteen minutes. Kyle barely had time to choke down a stale sandwich before Rodriguez was shouting for everyone to get back to work. The afternoon was even worse—the morning's exertion had left his body trembling with fatigue, but the quota still loomed over him like a death sentence.
When the ten-hour shift finally ended, Kyle had barely met the minimum requirement. His hands were raw and bleeding, his back felt like it was on fire, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest. He stumbled home through the darkening streets, his camouflage skill having worn off hours ago.
Kyle collapsed onto his futon the moment he entered his apartment, not even bothering to remove his dust-covered clothes. He was asleep before his head hit the thin pillow.
---
Kyle woke to sunlight streaming through his broken window and the insistent beeping of his alarm. His body felt like he'd been hit by a truck, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through his muscles. But there was something else—a notification floating in his peripheral vision.
DAILY MISSION COMPLETE: SURVIVE YOUR FIRST DAY
REWARD: +1 STRENGTH, +1 STAMINA, 25 EXPERIENCE POINTS
Kyle sat up slowly, testing his body. The pain was still there, but it felt... different. More manageable. He clenched his fists and was surprised to find that his grip felt stronger than it had the day before.
"At least something good came out of yesterday," he muttered, pulling himself to his feet.
His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he'd barely eaten anything the previous day. Kyle checked his meager food supplies—a few slices of bread, some instant noodles, and a can of beans. Not much, but it would have to do.
He activated his camouflage skill and headed back to the mining facility, dreading another day of brutal labor. But as he picked up his equipment, Kyle noticed something strange. The pickaxe felt lighter in his hands, and his body didn't protest as much when he hefted it onto his shoulder.
"The upgrades are actually working," he realized.
The second day was still punishing, but Kyle found himself managing the workload better. He was still exhausted by the end of the shift, but he hadn't come close to collapsing like he had the day before. More importantly, he'd exceeded the minimum quota by a small margin.
A muscular man with graying hair approached Kyle as they were cleaning their equipment. "Name's Torres," he said, extending a calloused hand. "I saw you working today. Not bad for someone so new."
"Thanks," Kyle replied, shaking the man's hand. "I'm... Jake." He'd decided to use a false name to match his disguised appearance.
"This is Elena," Torres said, gesturing to a woman in her thirties who was wiping rock dust from her face. She had the lean, wiry build of someone who'd been doing this work for years, and her eyes held the same tired determination Kyle was beginning to recognize in all the workers.
"You'll get used to it," Elena said with a weary smile. "The first week is hell, but your body adapts. Most people who make it past the first month can handle the work."
"Most?" Kyle asked.
Torres nodded grimly. "About half the new hires quit or get fired within the first week. The work up here is brutal, but it's better than working the lower levels."
"Lower levels?"
"The deeper you go, the worse it gets," Elena explained. "It's hotter down there, the rock is harder, and low-level monsters appear more often. The pay is better, but..." She shrugged. "Most people don't last long enough to enjoy it."
Kyle's blood ran cold. "Monsters? Here?"
"Occasionally," Torres said. "The facility has security, but sometimes something slips through. That's why they keep the quotas high—they want to get as much crystal out as possible before something happens."
Kyle went home that night with a new appreciation for how dangerous his job really was. The notification that appeared as he collapsed onto his futon was a welcome distraction.
DAILY MISSION COMPLETE: EXCEED MINIMUM QUOTA
REWARD: +1 STRENGTH, +1 STAMINA, 30 EXPERIENCE POINTS
Kyle checked his stats and was pleased to see his steady progress. But he was also accumulating points—currency he could use to upgrade his abilities directly. After a moment of consideration, he decided to invest in his future.
UPGRADE STRENGTH: 3 LEVELS
UPGRADE STAMINA: 3 LEVELS
COST: 60 POINTS
The transformation was immediate and dramatic. Kyle felt power flowing through his muscles, his breathing became easier, and the constant ache in his body faded to a dull throb. He flexed his hands experimentally and was amazed by the strength he felt.
---
The third day of work was a revelation. Kyle arrived at the facility feeling more energetic than he had in months. The pickaxe felt light in his hands, and the rock that had seemed impossibly hard just days before now cracked with satisfying ease under his strikes.
"Damn, Jake," Torres said during their lunch break. "You're really getting the hang of this. Most people are still struggling after a week."
"Just finding my rhythm," Kyle replied, trying to downplay his sudden improvement.
Elena nodded approvingly. "Keep this up and Rodriguez might actually give you a raise. Not that it would be much, but every little bit helps."
Kyle continued to improve throughout the week, his stats increasing with each daily mission completion. He invested his points strategically, focusing on strength and stamina to make the work more manageable. The transformation was remarkable—what had once been back-breaking labor became merely challenging.
His coworkers began to notice. Kyle found himself finishing his quota hours before the end of the shift, his movements efficient and powerful. The other workers watched with a mixture of admiration and envy as he consistently outperformed veteran miners.
"Rodriguez wants to see you," Elena said one afternoon, approaching Kyle as he finished extracting a particularly large crystal formation.
Kyle found the supervisor in his small office, reviewing production reports on his tablet. Rodriguez looked up as Kyle entered, his expression unreadable.
"Sit down, Jake," Rodriguez said. "I've been watching your work this week."
Kyle's heart rate spiked. Had he been too obvious about his improvements? "Is there a problem, sir?"
"Problem?" Rodriguez laughed harshly. "You're outproducing workers who've been here for years. Your output has increased by thirty percent since your first day. That's not normal."
"I'm just trying to do my best," Kyle said carefully.
Rodriguez studied him for a long moment. "I don't know what your story is, and I don't care. But good work deserves recognition. I'm giving you a raise—five percent increase, effective immediately."
Kyle felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me yet," Rodriguez said grimly. "Your performance is making the other workers look bad. Management has decided to increase the quota for everyone. You've just made life harder for your coworkers."
Kyle's stomach dropped. He hadn't considered that his improvement might hurt others. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know you didn't," Rodriguez interrupted. "But that's how things work here. Success breeds resentment. Watch your back."
---
The tension among the workers was palpable over the next few days. Kyle tried to moderate his performance, but even his "reduced" output was still well above average. Conversations died when he approached, and he caught several workers shooting him hostile glances.
"It's not your fault," Elena said during one of their breaks. "The system is designed to pit us against each other. Management loves it when we're too busy fighting among ourselves to organize."
"But people are suffering because of me," Kyle protested.
"People are suffering because of the quota system," Torres corrected. "You're just doing what you need to survive. Don't let them make you feel guilty for being good at your job."
Kyle was considering their words when the alarm started blaring.
The sound was unlike anything Kyle had heard before—a deep, resonant wail that seemed to vibrate through the rock itself. Emergency lights began flashing red throughout the facility, and the mechanical voice of the security system echoed through the tunnels.
"LEVEL 2 BREACH. ALL PERSONNEL EVACUATE TO DESIGNATED SAFE ZONES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."
"Shit," Torres breathed. "Something got through the barriers."
Kyle felt his blood turn to ice. Around him, workers were dropping their tools and running for the exits. But the evacuation wasn't going smoothly—panic had set in, and people were pushing and shoving in their desperation to escape.
That's when Kyle saw it.
The monster emerged from one of the deeper tunnels like a nightmare made flesh. It was roughly humanoid but wrong in every conceivable way—its limbs were too long, its movements too fluid, and its face was a writhing mass of shadows and teeth. Red energy crackled around its form, the same energy that had nearly killed Kyle in the lab.
The creature moved with terrifying speed, its claws raking across the nearest worker's chest. The man's scream was cut short as he collapsed, blood spreading across the rock floor. Another worker tried to run, but the monster was on him in seconds, its claws finding his throat.
Within moments, six people were dead, their bodies scattered across the work area like broken dolls. The surviving workers screamed and fled, abandoning their equipment in their panic to reach the exits.
Kyle started to run with them, every instinct screaming at him to get away from the creature. But then he heard Elena's voice, high and terrified.
"Help me! Please, someone help me!"
Kyle turned to see Elena trapped behind a pile of fallen equipment, the monster stalking toward her with predatory intent. She was fumbling with a pickaxe, trying to defend herself, but her hands were shaking too badly to hold it properly.
Without thinking, Kyle grabbed two pickaxes from the abandoned equipment rack and charged toward the monster. His enhanced strength and speed carried him across the work area faster than he'd ever moved before.
"Hey!" Kyle shouted, drawing the creature's attention. "Over here!"
The monster turned toward him, its shadow-wreathed face contorting with hunger. Kyle swung the first pickaxe with all his strength, the metal head connecting with the creature's leg. The impact sent shockwaves through Kyle's arms, but he felt bone crack beneath the blow.
The monster shrieked in pain and fury, swiping at Kyle with claws that would have disemboweled him if he hadn't rolled away. Kyle came up swinging with the second pickaxe, but the creature was ready for him this time.
Claws raked across Kyle's chest, tearing through his work shirt and scoring deep gashes in his flesh. Pain exploded through his body, but Kyle forced himself to keep moving. He feinted left, then jumped forward, bringing both pickaxes down on the monster's head.
The creature's skull cracked under the impact, black ichor spraying across the rock walls. Kyle raised the pickaxes again and brought them down repeatedly, each blow driving the creature closer to the ground. The monster's struggles grew weaker with each strike until finally, it lay still.
Kyle stood over the corpse, breathing heavily and dripping blood from his wounds. The adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving him shaky and disoriented. He looked over at Elena, who was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.
"Jake," she whispered. "What are you?"
Before Kyle could answer, the sound of running footsteps echoed through the tunnel. Rodriguez appeared with two security guards, their weapons drawn and ready. All three men stopped short when they saw the scene—the dead monster, the scattered bodies, and Kyle standing in the middle of it all, covered in blood and holding two pickaxes.
"What the hell happened here?" Rodriguez demanded.
Kyle looked down at the monster's corpse, then at the faces of his colleagues. He realized that his life had just changed again, and there was no going back to the anonymity he'd tried so hard to maintain.
"I... I killed it," Kyle said simply.
The silence that followed was deafening.